


Dinner And Diatribes

by ShipperTrash140109



Category: Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Edgeplay, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 14:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18096527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: Honey, this club here is stuck upDinner and diatribesBen had been to his fair share of after parties, and usually they were great, they were the best part of awards ceremonies, but this time, he couldn’t help but feel the night drag on and on. It was hard to stay engaged when all he wanted to do was go back to his hotel and undress the co-star that he’d been following all night. Gwilym could be used as a weapon of war when he wore suits as well as he was wearing one right now, Ben had had a glass in his hand all night purely to try and muffle his growing desire to fuck the man in front of hundreds of Hollywood’s finest.akasome harlee smut based off the song 'dinner and diatribes' by hozier





	Dinner And Diatribes

**Author's Note:**

> disc: If you are or know anyone mentioned in this fic I urge you to turn away now!
> 
> for a lovely anon on tumblr, i hope you enjoy! thank you so much for sending in your request, i had a lot of fun writing it, this song is so harlee omg!!
> 
> IM TAKING REQUESTS so feel free to drop one in the comments or on my tumblr!  
> FEEDBACK AND COMMENTS (even the screaming ones) ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED💓💓

_Honey, this club here is stuck up_ _  
Dinner and diatribes_

Ben had been to his fair share of after parties, and usually they were great, they were the best part of awards ceremonies, but this time, he couldn’t help but feel the night drag on and on. It was hard to stay engaged when all he wanted to do was go back to his hotel and undress the co-star that he’d been following all night. Gwilym could be used as a weapon of war when he wore suits as well as he was wearing one right now, Ben had had a glass in his hand all night purely to try and muffle his growing desire to fuck the man in front of hundreds of Hollywood’s finest.

_I knew it from the first look of_ _  
The look of mischief in your eyes_

When they’d been getting ready in a hotel room earlier, Ben had almost choked on empty air when Gwilym had walked out in his suit, looking fine as hell and ready to steal the hearts of any unfortunate soul who looked upon him. The brunet had noticed his boyfriend’s staring and had winked in a way that had Ben’s stomach doing flips, and from that moment, the blond knew he’d have a long night ahead. A long night of averting his gaze and catching his breath every time he got near the other, trying to smother his arousal every few moments. Gwil knew what he was doing, and Ben supposed that meant it would make finally falling into bed with him in the early hours of the morning all that more satisfying.

_Your friends are a fate that befell me_ _  
Head is the talking type_

Joe was a talker, they all knew that. He was also a shit stirrer, and as always, he didn’t fail to live up to such a title. Every time that phone came out, Ben would be subjected to one uncomfortably close photo after another, having to play along even though he could feel Gwil’s eyes burning into him time and time again, warning him, promising him. The blond couldn’t help but push his luck, relishing the darkness he could see in the other’s eyes every time he did.

_I'd suffer hell if you'd tell me_ _  
What you'd do to me tonight_

Ben could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the firmness of his hand against his hips and lower back, could hear it in the roughness of his voice as he whispered slurred words into his ear. He’d pay anything to be pushed into a wall and told everything going through that mans mind at this moment, he’d walk over miles of broken glass to hear Gwil’s thoughts every time Joe spoke or pulled out his phone. Ben felt his blood heat at the thought of it, and he had to take a moment to calm himself down.

_Tell me_ _  
Tell me_

Ben trails Gwil, waiting until they break into a quiet corner, obscured by darkness and the flashing lights, Ben presses himself into Gwil, his bulge colliding with thigh as he presses the older man against the wall. Every fibre of his being is screaming to leave this place, to get to their hotel, and let Gwil tear him apart. “Tell me- tell me what you’re going to do when we leave” Ben gasps into his neck, hands caressing the brunet’s sides, hips moving in slow, self-satisfying rolls, and he can hear Gwil groan over the music, torn between humouring the blond, and saving them from possibly being seen.

“I don’t have to tell you, I’ll show you, we’re leaving” Gwil breathes, pushing Ben away from him, lightly smacking his hand to the side of the blond’s face, leading him, directing him to follow. Then they slip quietly from the after party.

_That's the kind of love_ _  
I've been dreaming of_

Gwil ignores Ben the whole way home, leaves the younger man to stew in his own lust and need, and the blond knows it’s worth it because he knows he’ll get something much better once they’re out and behind closed doors. He trusts Gwil to leave him sated and satisfied, and despite the nagging, unignorable desire tugging at his veins and blurring his vision, his pants much too tight and skin much too hot, he knows not to touch, to wait and see. He nearly comes right then and there when Gwil finally looks at him, eyes sliding hungrily up over his form, over the gratuitous tent in his pants, the pink flush to his skin, the way his hands shake where they firmly grip his knees. Gwil’s looking at him like a piece of meat and Ben loves it.

_Honey, I laugh when it sinks in_ _  
A pillar I am of pride_

They barely make it to their room before Gwil is tearing at Ben’s clothes like an eager child tears at the wrapping of a Christmas present, discarding layers upon layers until they collapse in a heap onto the bed. Ben can barely breath before there’s fingers working him open, a harsh beard against his neck and merciless fingers at his nipples, pinching and rubbing until Ben is left nearly in tears, his body yearning to be filled, yearning to be ruined beyond recognition. When Gwil finally spreads the blond’s legs and pushes in, Ben’s vision cuts out, and for a moment the only thing in the universe is him and the weight between his legs, pinning him to the bed and claiming him, and all he can do is take it.

_Scarcely can speak for my thinking_ _  
What you'd do to me tonight_

He can’t think, he can’t speak, all he can do is listen as Gwil whispers things-dirty things, against his ear, tells him how he’s going to fuck him in half, tells him how he would’ve destroyed him at the after party if he’d had to deal with one more snide joke from Joe. Ben pleas for forgiveness, and Gwil denies it, cock relentless against his sweet spot, making the blond forget his own name, forget where he was, forget everything except _Gwilym, Gwilym, Gwilym._

_Now that the evening is slowing_ _  
Now that the end's in sight_

Ben could feel it in his hips, his ever-encroaching climax, nipping at his heels and flooding his senses with every well aimed thrust, and Ben doesn’t want it to end, can’t let it end, he’s squirming up against Gwil, begging for more, begging to be touched, to be finished with the same ferocity he’s been fucked with. Then there’s a hand around his cock and he’s ready to scream ‘Galileo,’ but it’s not moving, and then there’s a squeeze near the base and he can’t come, he can’t let himself go, he’s sobbing and writhing and bucking but Gwils got him, he’s at the older man’s complete mercy. He’d have it no other way.

_Honey, it's easier knowing_ _  
What you'd do to me tonight_

“I’m gonna fuck you till my legs give out and you’ve got no more voice to beg with, love” the brunet whispers against his lips, and Ben can only squeak a please, his mouth pliant and soft under Gwilyms. The blond sighs as teeth graze the soft flesh and tug and suck- just another distraction from the resounding ache between his thighs. Gwil’s unmoving fingers are determined, not letting Ben get anything other than an overpowering throb- whether it’s pain or pleasure Ben is unsure, all he knows is that whatever it is, it’s not changing unless the man above him says so, and yet Ben still trusts him fully.

_Tell me_ _  
Tell me you're mad_

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ Ben mouths, because if he were to speak, no more than a garbled sob would come out, and Gwil is chuckling, teeth against his throat, unforgiving fingers against his nipples, Ben’s back arching and shuddering with each pinch and drag. His head is spinning, and he barely catches Gwil say “think you can just parade yourself around all night and expect mercy? Oh, Benny you don’t know what you do to me.”

_Let there be hotels complaints and grievances raised_ _  
In that kind of love_

Then the fingers are loosening, a welcomed palm now sliding and pumping and stroking and Ben is crying out as a searing hot wave of pure ecstasy hits him, blinding him, overwhelming him so all he can do is tense and shout and let his climax wash over him. His stomach grows warm and slick as Gwil fucks him through his orgasm, holding him, pressing praise into his cheek, words Ben would happily have tattooed across his forehead. When he’s got nothing else to give, his body fills with a spreading sensation of complete satisfaction, his limbs are heavy yet body weightless as he lays there and takes Gwil’s cock. As promised, he felt utterly fucked in half, and he bloody loved it.

_Let there be damage ensued and tabloid news_ _  
In that kind of love_

He wonders if the bed hit the wall, if it dented the surface, scratched the paint, knocked the art off, he wonders if the neighbours called the hotel, complained about some slag getting the best dicking down of their life in the next room over. Ben wanted people to realise, wanted them to hear Gwil’s name on his lips, know what had happened, knew who Ben Hardy lay on his back for, knew who could claim his thighs for their own. He imagined pictures in the paper, seeing him spread out and ruined under the broad shoulders and thick cock of Gwilym Lee, at his complete mercy, begging for release. He wanted people to know he got it good, and he got it hard.

_That's the kind of love_ _  
I've been dreaming of, ah_

Ben is still floating when Gwil finally presses hard into him, hips slowing to a stutter as he comes hot and deep inside of him, filling Ben, claiming him inside and out. The blond almost cries when the brunet slips his cock free, and he already knows he won’t be able to ignore the painful aching reminder for at least a week, won’t be able to walk straight or sit down properly. He’s excited for it, excited for the constant reminder, excited for Gwil texting him every few hours to see how he’s doing, to see if he can go without thinking of it for more than ten seconds. He already knows he won’t.

It’s then that Gwil changes, flips from demanding, inexhaustive lover, to caring, selfless partner. His legs shaky and brain fuzzy, the brunet takes all the time in the world to clean his blond up, carefully manoeuvring him to ensure his comfort, kissing thanks into his skin and then stroking his hair softly until Ben falls asleep. Cuddling up to him and surrounding the blond in his strong arms as he falls unconscious. He dreams of love, and how he’s got the best kind of love right there next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to drop a comment or request down below, or hmu on my [tumblr](https://hardleeharlee.tumblr.com/)


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